by Betty Neels
‘I only have my English licence with me,’ said Cressida.
Jonkvrouw van Germert didn’t bother to answer her. ‘I shall want to leave at nine o’clock.’ She got up. ‘I hear the car.’
Cressida remembered her manners and wished her goodnight.
It was a pity that she didn’t know more about being a companion—she wasn’t sure if eating in the kitchen was one of the drawbacks but since she was hungry there wasn’t much she could do about it. When her employer was in a better mood it might be possible to bring the subject up. Summoned by Corrie presently, she joined her and Cook at the kitchen table to find that they were as uneasy about the situation as she was. The food, though, was good and they both did their best to talk to her, indeed by the end of the meal the conversation, with the help of gestures and guesswork, was quite animated. Her offer to help clear the table was refused and Corrie pointed to the ceiling. ‘Not good here,’ she managed. ‘You above.’
‘Oh, Corrie, what a kind thing to say,’ said Cressida warmly, and although they hadn’t understood her words the meaning was clear. They both smiled widely and wished her, ‘Wel te rusten.’
She had two friends, she thought as she climbed into bed.
* * *
DR VAN DER Linus, his work finished at the hospital, let himself into his house in Leiden, to be greeted by Mies and the dogs and go to sit in his pleasant drawing-room. He had stayed longer at the hospital than he had expected and his plan to drive to den Haag and see Nicola no longer held any attraction for him, and in any case she wasn’t expecting him back for another two days. Sitting by the fire, a drink in his hand and the dogs at his feet, he thought about Cressida. He had dissembled well enough; she plainly had no idea that he already knew where she was and had in fact arranged for her to be there in the first place. He would go and see her as soon as he had time to spare. She had looked not exactly sad when he had seen her across the street but certainly not happy, although when she had seen him her whole face had lit up. He would find out when next he saw her. He ate the delicious dinner Mies set before him and spent the rest of the evening in his study. He had a busy day ahead of him; Outpatients, a ward-round, private patients to see... He dismissed Cressida from his mind.
He had a few hours free on the afternoon following; just time enough to go and see Cressida. He supposed that he should take Nicola with him, and after lunch drove to den Haag. She greeted him with a surprise which concealed vexation. ‘Aldrik—you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.’
‘I came back two days ago,’ he told her, ‘but I’ve been busier than usual. I’m free for a couple of hours, so I thought we might go to your aunt’s and see how Miss Preece is getting on.’
Nicola answered too quickly. ‘Oh, must we? Couldn’t we go for a drive? She won’t be expecting us...’
He gave her a thoughtful look. ‘Well, it is a drive to Noordwijk-aan-Zee, albeit a short one, and there’s no need to stand on ceremony.’ He picked up a coat she had tossed down on a chair. ‘Put this on and we’ll go—I haven’t all that much time to spare.’
He was a quiet man and calm but she knew that he had an inflexible will. There was no point in annoying him, besides she wasn’t sure of him yet...
She hoped that Tante Clotilde would put on a show of treating the wretched English girl as though she were a treasured member of the household. A pity she hadn’t had the time to telephone; if only her coat hadn’t been lying there handy... It was no good worrying. She laid herself out to be charming, asking questions about his trip to France and pretending to be interested in the answers.
Corrie admitted them and showed them at once into the drawing-room where Jonkvrouw van Germert was lying on a sofa, leafing through a magazine. Taken unawares, she threw a look which boded no good to Corrie and got to her feet, her face wreathed in a hasty smile.
‘Nicola, dear, how delightful, and Aldrik. Forgive me, but I was having a brief rest. This is quite a large house you know and there is more than enough for the servants to do—I help out when I can but I’m not strong and get quickly exhausted.’
A piece of nonsense which caused the doctor to lift his eyebrows a fraction. ‘Surely Miss Preece is able to take the less important chores off your hands?’ he asked mildly.
‘Oh, of course,’ gushed his hostess, ‘such a good girl and so willing. Of course you would like to see her. Corrie shall fetch her for you.’
She tugged the bell rope by the fireplace and when Corrie came told her to fetch Miss Preece.
Corrie, who intended to stay in the house only until such time as she could find a better job, saw a chance to get some of her own back—she had broken a jug that morning and Jonkvrouw van Germert had told her its value would be taken out of her wages, which weren’t generous to begin with.
‘Certainly, Mevrouw, but you’ll have to wait a while. Miss Preece is in the middle of turning out the pantry as you told her to.’
Jonkvrouw van Germert went puce and drew such a deep breath that her corsets creaked. ‘Very well, but ask her to come as soon as she can.’
She turned to the doctor, standing by the window, looking out at the wintry garden. ‘Such a dear girl, always suggesting ways to help. Quite invaluable in the house.’
He made a most non-committal reply and watched his companions’ unease from under his lids, and, when Nicola began an animated conversation, joined in quite pleasantly.
It was ten minutes before Cressida joined them and Jonkvrouw van Germert said at once, ‘Ah, there you are, my dear. I want you to meet my visitors—my niece, Nicola van Germert and Dr van der Linus.’
Cressida had gone faintly pink at the sight of the doctor and then pale but she shook Nicola’s hand and murmured politely before offering a hand to him. He took it in his and said blandly. ‘Oh, but Cressida and I know each other—we met several times in England and saw each other briefly in Leiden a couple of days ago.’ He was aware of Nicola and her aunt exchanging glances and went on, ‘I do hope you have settled down, Cressida, and are enjoying yourself.’
He was still holding her hand in his, aware that it was red and rough; the pantry was probably only one of the chores he suspected she was expected to undertake. ‘You’re happy?’ he asked in a voice which expected an answer.
She said in a pleasant polite little voice, ‘Yes, thank you, Doctor,’ and withdrew her hand gently, giving him only the briefest of glances.
‘Well, I’m sure she should be,’ said Jonkvrouw van Germert in a rather too loud a voice. ‘It isn’t every girl who has a good job found for her. I hope you’ve thanked the doctor, Miss Preece, for it was he who asked me to employ you, you know; he knew that his grandmother could only have you for a few weeks—she took you in out of the kindness of her heart, isn’t that so, Aldrik?’
The doctor remained perfectly calm; only his eyes gleamed under their lids. He said evenly, ‘That is so, but one must also add that Cressida filled a much needed want with my Grandmother, just as I trust that she is doing here.’
Cressida’s cheeks were a shade paler. ‘I didn’t know. I thought that Mrs Sefton... I’m very grateful to you, Doctor.’
Rage and humiliation sent the colour flying into her face, and her eyes flashed with temper. At that moment she hated everyone in the room, especially the doctor. She said clearly, ‘And now, if you will excuse me, I’ll go back and finish scrubbing out the pantry.’
Her exit, considering that she was a small, unassuming girl, was magnificently dignified.
CHAPTER FIVE
CRESSIDA CLOSED THE door with a deliberate quietness far more effective than a good slam, and the doctor’s firm mouth twitched. He said suavely, ‘I see that I have been at fault. Quite unwittingly I must have given you the impression that Cressida was a domestic worker, Jonkvrouw van Germert.’ He glanced at Nicola. ‘Did you think that, Nicola?’
&
nbsp; ‘Oh, I really don’t remember what you said. And anyway, why all the fuss? The girl’s got a good home here and I’m sure Tante Clotilde is most considerate towards her. After all, she has to earn her living—one job must be as good as another.’ She shrugged elegant shoulders. ‘And there’s no need to make a fuss about cleaning a pantry, surely...?’
‘Have you ever cleaned a pantry?’ enquired the doctor gently.
She made haste to change her tactics. ‘No, you know I haven’t, Aldrik, and I’m sorry if I’m being unkind. I’ll come tomorrow and have a talk to her, shall I? And perhaps Tante Clotilde and I can rearrange her duties.’ She added in a sympathetic voice, ‘Of course the poor girl was upset, but I’m sure I can try to put things right. Will you leave it to me?’ She smiled coaxingly. ‘Women are so much better at that sort of thing than men.’
The doctor hesitated and then agreed. Nicola was right, of course; she would be able to smooth things over far better than he could, for one thing she could talk to her aunt with a good deal more frankness than he could, and, since Jonkvrouw van Germert expressed her concern and agreed that Cressida’s duties should be considerably altered, he left with Nicola shortly afterwards. There was no sign of Cressida and on the whole he thought it best not to see her until things had been changed and she had settled down. All the same, he still neither liked nor completely trusted Jonkvrouw van Germert.
It was a matter he was forced to dismiss once he returned to the hospital, and, since he didn’t get home until much later that evening, the remaining hours of which were taken up with walking the dogs, eating a delayed dinner and then dictating letters and notes into his Dictaphone until well after midnight, he shelved the problem until he had the leisure to solve it to his liking.
Nicola, on the other hand, had the leisure to review the situation thoroughly. It had been most unfortunate that Aldrik had returned home several days ahead of the expected date, and, worse, had met Cressida. The girl couldn’t have complained to him, since he had said nothing, and he had been angry when her aunt had told Cressida that it was he who had arranged the job for her on the first instance. Nicola frowned; any other man would have lost his temper or at least demanded to know why the girl was being treated like a servant, but Aldrik had exhibited no sign of annoyance. She had known him for some time now and long since decided that she would marry him—he had a splendid home, more than enough money, and was already a name to be reckoned with in the medical profession. She didn’t love him, but he was handsome, had beautiful manners and many friends. She had never known him to show anger but now she wasn’t sure... Presently she reached for the phone and dialled her aunt’s number.
The pantry had never been so clean; Cressida vented her temper upon its shelves and floor and emerged presently to tidy herself and present herself in the drawing-room for her daily task of writing out the shopping-list for her employer. She had missed the afternoon cup of tea served at half-past three o’clock although Corrie had brought her a cup of coffee, and, without speaking, helped her to put everything back in its place.
Jonkvrouw van Germert was still dangerously high-coloured and embarked on an involved excuse for her treatment of Cressida; she had never had a companion, she explained, and had no idea that Cressida expected to be treated as a guest in the house. ‘And heaven knows that there is more than enough for you to do in the house and I cannot see why you should object to a little light housework—I felt quite ashamed before Dr van der Linus.’
Cressida, her good nature torn in shreds, said that she was glad to hear it. ‘It is quite obvious that I took this job under a misapprehension. I thought at first that things would improve but each day you have treated me more like a servant and less like a companion. I think that we do not suit each other, mevrouw, and that it will be better if I leave.’
‘No, no, there is no need for that, I’m sure that we can come to some amicable agreement, Miss Preece. At least let us wait until tomorrow when we shall both feel better able to discuss the matter.’ She added with a touch of malice, ‘It is a pity that you didn’t know that it was Dr van der Linus who persuaded me to take you.’
To which Cressida made no reply and the rest of the evening was spent in an atmosphere of frigid politeness.
She was unpicking the muddle of her employer’s knitting when Nicola arrived. She put it down at once and got up to leave the room but Nicola stopped her. ‘No, sit down again, I’ve come to talk to both of you.’ She exchanged a look with her aunt. ‘We really must discuss things, mustn’t we?’
Cressida didn’t answer. She had no wish to discuss anything; she didn’t like Nicola any more than she liked her aunt and Nicola had been very possessive towards the doctor. Surely he didn’t intend to marry her? If so, he was both blind and bent on being unhappy for the rest of his life. Nicola, thought Cressida, was a young version of her own stepmother. He deserved better than that, although she hadn’t forgiven him for deceiving her, however kindly his intentions had been.
Nicola made herself comfortable. ‘Could we have some coffee?’ she wanted to know. ‘I missed lunch. Perhaps Miss Preece wouldn’t mind going to the kitchen and asking Corrie to bring some here?’
Cressida put down the knitting. ‘Yes, of course,’ she kept her voice determinedly polite. She wanted to be out of the way while Nicola conferred with her aunt. She was right, of course; the moment she was out of the way, Nicola said urgently, ‘Now, Tante Clotilde, leave the talking to me...’
Cressida came back and Corrie followed her presently with the coffee-tray and the three of them sat around drinking it and discussing the weather, the approach of Sint Nikolaas and Christmas, but soon Nicola put her coffee-cup down.
‘Aldrik—Dr van der Linus—asked me to come and talk to you, Miss Preece. I’m afraid that you upset him yesterday. You see, he had gone to a great deal of trouble on your behalf, first persuading his grandmother—you didn’t know that Lady Merrill was that?—to take you in under the guise of companion which she did while he sought for a permanent post for you. Of course he told me about you—we have no secrets—and I suggested that my aunt should employ you. He came here and discussed it with us both and was quite satisfied that it was just the kind of work you could do—you have no qualifications, have you? You can imagine how he feels at your show of ingratitude. He told me how much he pitied you and he has been to a good deal of trouble on your behalf. The least you can do is to show your real gratitude by doing your work without complaining.’
Cressida had listened without a sound to this speech. That she was boiling over with rage wasn’t discernible; her ordinary face was composed even if it was pale, and when she spoke her voice was quiet and pleasant.
‘Out of the frying-pan, into the fire,’ she observed, and had the satisfaction of seeing the puzzlement on her companions’ faces. ‘I don’t think there is anything we can say to each other, Juffrouw van Germert. You may have come with the best intentions, but I doubt it.’ She put the knitting down, and set her cup and saucer on the tray. ‘I’ll leave you, if I may?’ She looked at Jonkvrouw van Germert, whose formidable bosom was heaving quite alarmingly. ‘I expect you would like to discuss me together.’
She went straight upstairs to her room, took her two cases from under the bed and packed her things, doing it neatly and unhurriedly, then changed into her warmest clothes, checked her handbag for money and passport, and, carrying her luggage, went downstairs. The drawing-room door was shut and she made no attempt to go there but went through the hall to the kitchen where she bade an astonished Corrie and Cook goodbye and then, via the back door, left the house.
It was bitterly cold and the cases were awkward, but, carried along on a right royal rage, she hardly noticed this. At the bus station she was lucky, for a bus was due to leave within a few minutes, and she got herself on board and sat, her head empty of thought, until it finally reached Leiden. It was no distance to the station, sh
e bought a ticket to the Hoek and sat down on the platform to wait for the train. The enormity of what she had done was just beginning to penetrate her rage. There was no going back; indeed, wild horses wouldn’t have persuaded her to do that. To go back to England was the obvious thing to do; luckily she had the best part of the hundred pounds in her purse and she knew that a ferry sailed from the Hoek at around midnight. It was a little after five o’clock, she had ample time to get there and at this time of year there should be no trouble getting a ticket. Beyond that she wasn’t going to think. She couldn’t go back to her home but surely she would find work of some kind in London; anything would do until she found her feet. She sat there, getting colder and colder, not allowing herself to think of Dr van der Linus, but, try as she might, her thoughts returned to him time and again. She hadn’t expected to meet him again but she never would have forgotten him, she had thought of him as a friend and she had confided in him. She could, at a pinch, forgive him for deceiving her about his grandmother, but to arrange for her to go to Holland and to someone who disliked her and didn’t want her anyway was something she was unable to condone, and to crown the whole unhappy business he had allowed Nicola to take her to task for not being grateful. Worst of all, though, he pitied her, in much the same way as he had pitied the dog she had found. She would have liked to have a good cry but it was far too cold.
The train came presently and she found a seat, had a cup of the excellent coffee brought round, and, once they got to Rotterdam, found the train for the Hoek and got on board. She would have hours to wait there before she could go on board the ferry but she could sit in the café and have a bowl of soup in its noisy warmth.
The station at the Hoek was almost deserted; it was too early for the boat train and the local trains taking the workers home had dwindled to infrequency. The café was half full and she found a seat at a table by one of its windows and dawdled over a bowl of Erwetensoep, steaming hot pea soup, as thick as porridge and spiced with pork and sausage, and a roll, and then, leaving her cases in the care of the elderly couple who were sharing her table, she went to ask about a ticket. Its price made a serious hole in her money and a berth was out of the question, but she would be able to curl up on a bench somewhere, for the ship was half empty, she was told. She went back to the café and ordered a cup of coffee. The place was filling up now and in another half-hour or so the boat train would arrive and all the seats would be taken. The elderly couple were going on the ferry too, that much she had understood, but conversation was difficult, so they lapsed into a friendly silence and she was left to her thoughts.